


A Strumming Fire

by MetallicHeartache (TwistedViolets)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Geralt, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Collars, Eventual Heat Cycle, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monsters, Nightmares, Omega Jaskier, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roach is the best horse, Scents, Sharing a Bed, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/MetallicHeartache
Summary: Jaskier, a rare omega, lives his life being sold and bought. He's never had a home nor companion for more than a week at a time...and he's never known the value of consent.While being auctioned off, bright pink color around his neck, a unusual buyer wanders in the back. His eyes piecing, his hair sliver, and the symbol hanging off his chest tells Jaskier everything he needs to know.This man is the white wolf, Garalt of Rivia and he holds up a small white card, wordlessly taking part in this auction, attempting to buy him. Jaskier can't help the way he shivers in fear...the mere thought of being this man's toy is terrifying.He probably wouldn't survive would he?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 317
Kudos: 1741





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tags will be updated as the story progresses because I don’t want to spoil anything! So please  
> check them out every chapter <3
> 
> (Also summary might change Im not really feeling it)

Again he's being dragged to an auction. This may not be the same auction as last time, nor the time before, or even the same town, but it's an auction nonetheless and he's scared. People whisper around him, as his master, his Alpha, Alex drags him along.

His body is sluggish, bruised, and he burns in all the wrong places. It's to be expected after being forced to take an alpha, he was held down, punched until he stopped fighting, and then he was had. It always goes that way. 

Alphas see him on an auction block, think he's just a cute, sweet omega...and another hole to shove themselves into. The best kind of hole. They pay half their life savings, get him, and then realize that's he's not one to be easily broken in.

He'll fight, tooth and nail, and although he might not withstand a deep beating...he still fights every time. He takes the hits, he takes the degrading talk, and he always loses. He's not strong, he's not fast, he's just an omega.

"Hurry it up," Alex tugs on his leash, attached to a bright pink collar around his neck. It screams that he’s an omega, a prized possession. Not that he wanted to be...he had dreams at one point.

He wanted to be a bard. To learn the lute and sing his heart out at some tavern. He'd find a muse or two and make a name for himself. Unfortunately, before he even had a chance to try he was kidnapped off the streets one night almost two years ago and had been an object ever since.

He stops while Alex signs him into the auction, using words like 'slut,' and 'bitch,' to describe him. He, of course, said there was nothing wrong with him, he just needed the extra money. 

A woman stood after accepting. She grabbed his leash and took him inside a little building that smelled clean, pure, only betas have been in this auction he can tell.

There aren't many Omegas left.

She does a little prettying up of him. A quick brush of his hair, a small wipe of his face, a quick spray of herbal perfume made to make his smell more potent as if it wasn't already. Then he was given a number, a small white card labeled 'Three.'

"You'll be bought up quick...most likely the quickest we've ever seen here, and the most expensive. You're an omega aren't you?"

Jaskier nods and the girl simply guides him to another room, full of female betas and one other male beta, all with blue collars around their necks. The woman leaves, shutting the door with a quick click.

Jaskier sits beside one of the female betas, no words are exchanged. They are objects, toys, things for nobles...alphas to use for whatever they so please.

"It'll be starting soon," one of the other female says, number six, and her skin is nice and clear, unbruised like the rest of them. She must be new to this way of life, the cycle of torture and abandonment.

Once you're in you're never out. No one wants you for anything but servitude and silence. Once you're used up and they've had they're fun they throw you away like trash and someone else picks you up and uses you all over again.

His stomach cramps with disgust and he's reminded that he hasn't had anything to eat since yesterday morning. A shame really.

He hopes his next master is as nice as his last. One meal a day is luxurious...and even then he selfishly desired more even though he should have been happy. All his past masters only fed him a few times a week...and he had been so content with that.

Now that he's spoiled...he'll have a hard time going hungry like he should. Like Omegas usually did.

————————————————————

The auction is starting. He can hear the chattering of nobles wanting entertainment and peasants wishing they had more money. The host begins speaking, explaining the basic rules, all bidding starts at five hundred shillings and go up from there. The final Better bidder gets to take home their 'prize.'

"With that out of the way ladies and gentlemen let me introduce to you...our first beta of the night...A small young woman with a sweet voice." The number one beta stands at the door of the opposite side of the room, the woman from before directing her outside onto a wooden stage.

The sound is muffled but he hears many male voices bitting. Five to Six to Seven and then someone gets her for eight hundred shillings.

Number two stands and is directed out of the room on to the stage. The host introducing her as she leaves. "This little lass may be small and soft-looking but don't worry she's stronger than she looks. She'll bear strong pups or if you'd like...you could be the one to ruin her pale skin."

More bidding is heard. Again and again the but the numbers stop short. She's sold for seven hundred shillings.

The woman gestures to him, and he stands. He holds his breath as the host introduces him. "Now this, ladies and gentlemen is a rare specimen. We have a real, in the flesh male omega here. Soft and good feeling in all the right ways."

He walks out in stage, the woman pressing her hand on him to let him know to go. He keeps his head down, hands across his chest defensively, and he just stands there beside the host.

He's frozen.

Being stared at by all these alphas, smelling the want and need. He knows they are looking at him like food and he hates it.

"He'd be perfect to bare you a family of strong pups, and you can ravish him in his heats."

He bites his lips before looking out to the crowd. He scans their faces. Nobles licking their lips, peasants sniffing the air, and so many wide-eyed stares. Some of them have probably never even seen an omega before.

"For this special lad, we'll start the bidding at one thousand shillings."

He's always a noble buy. No one else could ever afford him...and yet he's treated like garbage. He's not treasured, he's not bathed and loved...he's treated like a dog. He often eats on the floor and the scraps of his master's food are all he had and he considered that a meal.

Someone wanders in the back of the crowd. They catch his attention, the sudden glare of armor on him, his silver hair, his piercing eyes. He'd different from the rest of them. Not a noble nor a peasant but what he is is not clear.

Not until he looks at the medallion on his chest. Then his heart drops, sinks right below his feet. That is a Witcher, isn't it? He's heard of them.

Heartless monsters who have no feelings. Powerful Alphas who make other alphas look like small strengthless betas.

He hopes...prays to all the gods that that Witcher isn't here for him. He's lived so long, survived too long for a Witcher to come to kill him. To ravish him so fiercely that neither his screaming nor bleeding is enough to save him.

He shakes uncontrollably.

It happens slowly. The Witcher raises up his card, casts his bid, and when everyone turns to look at him a burst of chattering broke out. Everyone is starring, whispering amongst themselves, and they take a few steps back.

No one challenges the Witcher.

They all know what happens to those who do.

"One thousand going once."

No

"One thousand going twice."

He doesn't want to die.

"One thousand-sold to this here Witcher. You may come up and claim your prize.

The Witcher makes slow movements, no sounds coming from him. His eyes are still piercing and with each step, he takes the crowd parts and make way for him. He takes each step up the platform slow and when he gets there he stops, looks him over thoroughly, and then grabs his leash and pulls.

No words are said.

As he walks through the crowd, his legs shaking, his heart racing, he just feels like everything is spinning. This can't be happening. 

Everyone whispers and he hears someone say 'poor omega,' and it makes him even sicker. Even they know. The rest of these people know and they are scared for him.

The Witcher continues walking, no emotion on his face, no words from his mouth, just as the rumors say.

Witchers are monsters with no emotions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support <3

He stands off to the side, moving from one leg to the other, scared, tired, and hungry. His new alpha exchanged money with the woman at the desk and receives a few words. 

He hears nothing but "There will be no Refunds if you grow tired of him," and that's that. It's always that. 

The Witcher turns away, grabbing his leash and pulling. His alpha still hasn't said a word to him. Nothing at all.

At least by this point, he was usually called an omega or a slut. Never was he called by his preferred name. Never was his feelings considered.

His alpha brings him to a horse, one that stares down at him as if judging him heavily. He hadn't known it was possible for a horse to do such a thing. His alpha pulls on the horse's reins and then they're off.

He follows behind his alpha, knowing running isn't an option. If you ran you were beaten...sometimes to death. He didn't want that. He couldn't handle it. 

He's two steps behind the alpha, listening intently to the whispering around him. Here, there, everywhere. They are all looking and pointing and he hears harsh harsh words.

He ignores all of it. His heart can't take much more.

He realizes, very slowly, that they are being led to an inn and he knows he pales. Is the Witcher planning on breaking him in already? He doesn't want to do this.

The Witcher ties up the horse outside the inn before leading him inside, wordlessly. The inn is dark, little noise comes from within, and all he does is tremble as his alpha pulls him up a set of stairs. A few stray drunks look at them but look away just as quickly.

Did he already have a room? Did he come here just to buy him? To buy a cute little toy to use and abuse? 

It wouldn't be the first time...but it's the first time he's felt so much dread. The sudden pit in his stomach growing and growing with no intent on stopping.

With each step, he's pulled closer and closer until he gets a good smell of his alpha. A strong scent of bark, woody in nature, and a small watered down scent of arousal.

He trembles...bitting back his fear. He's fine. This isn't different. This is just his new master, just another alpha, he'll probably be fine.

He's pulled into the first room on the second floor. It smells clean, it must not have been used by his alpha yet. He stands there, waiting for an order, waiting to be taken, waiting to be beaten.

His alpha undoes his leash as they call it, although it's a mere piece of thin rope not suited for horse leading let alone omega leading. His alpha then looks him over, really over, before pressing his hands on his arms.

His alpha rubs his hands up his arms, sending shivers up his spine. He hopes his alpha doesn't notice.

"Huh," his alpha says, at least that's what it sounds like to him. A dull sound that signifies some sort of realization.

His alpha pulls him, by the arm, gently, as if intending to not leave bruises. He's lead to the bathroom and gestured to sit on a little stool while his alpha fills the bath.

"I am Geralt of Rivia."

The alpha speaks. He speaks these words, slow, methodical, and so strong sounding. It's so thick it makes him curl in on himself. Like he thought...this alpha is the strong type, the type that takes and takes without ever caring nor giving.

The alpha looks at him expectingly, as if waiting for something, but he keeps his mouth shut. Alphas hate when he talks. They hate when he opens his mouth. They hate it.

The alpha continues filling the bath even though whatever he wished to happen didn't. Or it did. He doesn't know. 

"Get undressed,” His alpha grunts and again he waits expectingly. 

He stands, grasping his buttons before undoing his shirt, then his pants, and they fall off his body and plop onto the floor. He stands there, naked, trembling, and then he can smell himself. He does, now that the potion is wearing off he can smell his own scent of fear and it's enough to disgust himself.

alphas hate that scent.

"Get in," his alpha again grunts, gesturing to the tub which is filled with less than hot water. He takes a step over the lip and then sits inside. 

He waits for his alpha to join. To come inside the tub and ravish him as they all do.

His alpha looks at him, his eyes scanning his body, the bruises, the disgusting marks that litter him and then...he just turns around. He walks away giving him no more looks.

"Clean up," his alpha finally mutters once he's closed the door.

He's all alone now. Alone. He hasn't had a bath in a while. Is his alpha letting him have this? This luxury because he wants to have him clean while he fucks him? 

He washes his hair using a soap that was sitting beside the tub. It smells earthy, probably made from forest herbs. He uses it sparingly, seeing as he had no interest in sparking any wrath of the Witcher.

A monster who hunts monsters.

He curls up his knees before pressing his head against them. Tears prick his eyes but he wills them away. Alphas hate that too. They do. So much so that they tended to beat him bloody for crying about anything.

He stays in the bath, unmoving. He waits for his alpha to tell him to get out. He can't do anything unless he's ordered to.

He's just an omega.

————————————————————

The water is getting cold and the nearby candles are almost out. He sits there, shivering now from the cold and tenseness but still doesn't move. 

There's a knock at the door...as if his alpha didn't have the right to come.

He opens his mouth, wanting to speak, but nothing comes out. He talks so rarely that now it feels wrong, like anxiety that hits him hard and heavy.

The door opens and there stands his alpha, a frown on his lips and hands across his chest. The anxiety grows, it hurts so much.

The alpha comes over and looks down upon him. "Do you prefer ice baths?" He asks, rather seriously, and he gets no response although it helps to lighten the heat on his heart.

The alpha helps him out of the tub, although he didn't need it, and despite the fact that he could have ordered him out. The alpha is acting like he's nice and gentlemen like...not completely out of the ordinary.

Some of his other alphas did that too, act all nice just to lure him into a false sense of security. It won't work again. He won't fall for it.

A towel is wrapped around him before he's lead back into the main room. Where on the bed sits a singular meal, it smells of delicious ham and spices. His mouth waters at the smell, just imagining the taste.

"Sit," the alpha says, patting a part of the bed. He does as he's told, waiting for the bad things to start, instead the tray of food is placed gently on his lap.

"Eat," his alpha says like it's nothing. Like this isn't the best meal he's ever seen in his life. "You're no good to me dead, " he eats without concern for right or wrong. He takes bite after bite, tearing into the ham and gulping down the water.

His alpha frowns at his behavior.

He slows down, tries his best to take everything one moment at a time. His food is not going anywhere...but it could. His alpha could rip it away and laugh. Say what a little idiot he is for believing he could have something so good.

His alpha smells pleased though, once he slows down, so he continues to do so. A small voice telling him he should be a good omega even though he hates it. He doesn't want to be an omega, he doesn't want to live this life.

His alpha doesn't smell like arousal anymore, it only occurs to him once he's finished his meal. It's gone, completely, and his alpha doesn't seem too interested in his body yet.

The sun is going down outside, from the windows he can tell, and his heart hurts. Again he has thoughts, visions of his alpha holding him down and having his way with him.

His alpha picks up the tray of food, opens the door, sets it outside the door, and shuts it. He turns around, stares at him deeply before sighing.

"Would you stop looking at me like that?" His alpha asks him and his heart stutters.

"L-like what?" He says, his voice finally deciding to work after the hot meal. His alpha finches for some reason and he doesn't answer the question.

Nothing.

He must be upset that he spoke. That's it right?

The alpha walks to the other side of the bed and sits. He takes off his armor, one piece at a time before sitting them not so gently on the floor. Each piece leaves a clinging noise that echos.

His alpha leans back when he's done, laying on the bed, on top of the blankets, his hands behind his head, and his eyes shut.

He doesn't move even though his alpha doesn't smell threatening, nor does he look it, but still he can't move a muscle. He needs to be ordered, he needs to know he's doing the right thing.

His alpha raises a hand and pats beside him before putting it back behind his head. He crawls beside his alpha and lays down, more aware now that he's only covered by a towel than just a moment ago.

It'd be so easy for this alpha to rub a hand up his legs and touch his insides. It'd be so easy.

He lays there, heat pouring off his alpha, it consumes him, making him feel some sick sense of comfort. Like he could sleep right there, right beside his soon to be predator.

His eyes flutter, the alpha's breaths are even, and he just stares. His alpha moves, pulling the blanket from below them to over-them with un human-like strength.

Covered up, snuggled beside this...this monster he just feels. Feels sad, tired, scared, comfort, so many different things. For once he wasn't ravished on the first day. For once he wasn't bleeding and crying his eyes out as an alpha fucks him dry.

For once he feels...fine.

A warm meal in his belly, a hot bath, he feels so sickly spoiled that all he wants to do is cry. That means things only get worse from here right? 

His breaths start evening, the alpha makes no move, nothing. He closes his eyes and experimentally moves away, just a little, just so there's a little distance between the two and he can sleep better.

The alpha doesn't say a thing.

He turns around, faces the opposite direction, and falls sleep better than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopping to actually pick up the story more in the next chapter. These first two are mainly world building but what you do hehe.
> 
> Have a good day!


	3. Chapter 3

He's being shaken and before he knows it his eyes open wide and he's panting into the darkness. His alpha hovers over him, his eyes piercing, his body covered in his armor, and his mouth in a thin, thin line.

This is it. His alpha is going to ravish him. Consuming his flesh, licking his skin, tasting his sweat...

His stomach flips and flops and upsettingly he's close to throwing up his good meal.

"We must leave," the alpha tells him before tossing his clothes at him. He sits up, rubbing his eyes for a moment before doing as he's told. Shirt over his head, underwear than pants. He doesn't understand why they are leaving though seeing as it's still night.

Where are they going? Where does his alpha live? He hasn't ever heard of a Witcher who wasn't always on the move. So will this be his life until his alpha gets tired of him? Moving from village to village, town to town.

What a way to live.

A sudden sound of chattering comes. It comes through the floorboards, through the thin walls, and he can't understand a thing but it sounds bad.

His alpha's eyebrows furrow before he pulls on his wrist, not bothering to leash him although he should. What kind of owner would trust their pet after having them for a day...not even a day?

"You're slow," his alpha pulls him along, quickly, his grip isn't hard but with the way he's pulling he's making his bruises flair up. He hisses in pain, clenching his eyes but his alpha continues. Out of the room, down the stairs, and there in the lobby, which houses a bar, is a group of men.

Their chattering stop and they come to glare at them, him and his alpha. "So you thought you could pull a fast one on us didn't you?" One of the men stands and he gets a good look at his face.

It's Edwin, one of Alex's 'business partners.' He'd only ever met him once before, when Alex had an issue with a peasant not repaying his loan.

He shivers, just thinking about the poor man, the peasant, he had been jumped in an alley and left for the dogs and creatures to eat. Just the cycle of life Alex had told him.

"You know that bitch is worth much more than you paid for it."

He's just a it. That's what he's always been.

His alpha looks at the men half torn between uncaring and exhausted. His alpha pulls on his hand, they start heading to the door but before they can get out Edwin slides in front of them, hand on his sword.

"Now now Witcher. You may have everyone else fooled but I don't bite. You're not the scary monster they make you out to be are you?"

His alpha doesn't say a word.

"Just hand the omega over and no one gets hurt? You hear? Just get lost."

His alpha drops his hold on him. And he panics, he just feels his heart drop. He doesn't want to go back to Alex. He doesn't want to be back there. Somehow he just...even though he's only been with the Witcher for a day he feels...good with him.

He's been treated like a human being for once...even if it won't last long.

"And if I say no? What will you do?" 

His alpha's hand twitches, as if he's considering drawing his own sword.

Edwin smiles before unsheathing his sword, he thrusts it towards his alpha without warning. The sword cuts through the air, and his alpha moves away swiftly, leaving him standing there like an idiot.

He's staring at the sword coming towards him it all goes in slow motion. He braces himself, putting up his hands in terror, and before he can even comprehend what's happening his alpha is knocking his feet out from under him. He falls on his butt and the sword narrowly misses him.

His alpha takes the time to unsheathe his own sword and stab it through Edwin, blood spews out and splatters across his skin.

It's warm, it coats him, in small little droplets. He trembles looking up to the man, looking at the horrified expression on his face as the sword is taken out from his body and more blood splats on the floor.

The group of men that accompany Edwin all standstill. They look in horror, some swords drawn, others not. They may be thugs but they aren't stupid.

Edwin falls on his knees, holding his stomach, mumbling a slew of curses as time seems to speed back up. "We need to leave," his alpha tells him, slipping his sword away before walking towards the door. "Now," he growls and it makes every hair on his body stick up.

What was this? What just happened? He's never seen it before with his own two eyes...

He stands and follows after his alpha immediately, Edwin grunts and hisses behind.

"He'll live," his alpha tells him before pulling on his hand. To the stables he's led and his alpha helps him onto the horse who bucks and glares at him.

"Not the time roach," his alpha spews and the horse for whatever reason takes him seriously. The horse allows him on to it, despite its previous protests it seems to accept him. For it takes its master's words seriously...because it respects his alpha right? 

If a horse can trust him doesn't that mean he's good? He feels funny even thinking that, knowing what just happened. But he was defending him, right?

His alpha jumps on behind him, grasps the reins and off they go. Where? He has no idea. His horse gives a whiny at having more than the usual passengers but goes on nonetheless.

His alphas smell, the woodiness brings comfort to him, and his warmth makes him melt into to him. He leans back, only slightly trembling, just taken aback by everything.

He knew Witcher's led life's like this. He knew but seeing it first hand was something else entirely.

————————————————————

His alpha is silent as they travel. He has questions though. So many of them. Why did he get an omega if he had no interest in mating with him? Why did he stop in that town? Why did he protect him?

Didn't Witchers travel alone?

"Alpha," he starts, opening his mouth because he feels comfortable. Opening his mouth because he's stupid and he always ruins good things.

"Do not call me that," his alpha says behind him, his voice rumbling his chest.

What else is he supposed to call him? Geralt? There's no way that he could do that, could he? He's always referred to his alphas as alpha. They liked that. They liked knowing they have the authority.

He didn't want his alpha to be angry at him.

"Um...well...Geralt," he swallows hard, his mouth seeming to dry up as each second passes. It's so hard to do this. To do these things he wants to do.

He wants to talk. He loves to talk. His alphas just don't like it...and he always says the stupidest of things. His mouth gets him in trouble.

His alpha doesn't scold him. His alpha doesn't acknowledge him. His alpha doesn't praise him.

Nothing.

He says nothing more. Forgetting the reason he even opened his mouth in the first place. Was he going to ask why his alpha bought him? Why Geralt purchased him...

He sighs and leans back more heavily against his alpha, consuming his body heat, just accepting this small moment of peace. He pushes the memory of what happened at the inn far away, in the back of his mind.

————————————————————

"We will make camp here," Geralt says as he jumps off the horse, landing with a dull thud in a small clearing off woods. He then extends a hand to him, to help him down from roach, he takes it.

He stands in the small clearing...feeling strangely...excited? To be on an adventure...to be in the unknown. It's something he could write about, sing about even.

His mood drops. Just thinking about his dreams, his deepest desires. He's always wanted to be a bard. Not that it was the best job, but he grew up watching them, being inspired by them, and he was always determined to be better than them.

He wanted to learn the lute, use his beautiful voice to sing. Of course, that never happened.

Geralt makes a small fire in a ring of rocks he's gathered. He starts it rather easily, it must be a well practiced skill to be done so quickly. Geralt pulls out a singular fur from a bag on roach and sits it beside the fire on the ground.

"This will be our bed," Geralt says, although he can tell there's more. Like words he doesn't say but is heard. 

This it is, it's all we've got, so make do.

He wonders what this feeling is. The sudden feeling like they are connected, like somehow he can read the Witcher...just a little.

He sits on the furs, in front of the fire, and Geralt ties Roach to a tree. "I'll search the area for an animal of any sorts." His alpha-Geralt, Geralt turns and walks into the forest only stopping to look back with a deep glare. "Don't do anything stupid."

Geralt walks into the forest and becomes one with the darkness.

Geralt must be crazy, isn't he? How can he leave his omega all alone? In the forest? Isn't he worried about him running away?

Not that he is. He's not stupid. He'd die in the forest and...he actually likes his alpha for once. 

The thought hits him hard and he bites the side of his cheek. He can't do this. He can't let his heart do his thinking. He won't let this alpha lure him in.

He won't.

A bush rustles, goosebumps travel down his spine. It rustles again but nothing comes out. He starts to worry, he pulls his legs up to his body, in almost a self-defending manner.

"Geralt?"

As if on cue Geralt steps out of the darkness, expressionless, but holding out a bloody rabbit.

Dinner.

————————————————————

Geralt does all the butchering and cooking himself. Although Omegas are supposed to do the cooking.

Of course, he isn't quite sure how to cook a rabbit in woods like this. But he wouldn't have been surprised if Geralt asked him.

Geralt spins the rabbit on a stick over the fire, cooking it evenly. He stays silent, but his eyes drift to him ever so often as if thinking of something. Perhaps asking himself why in the world he bought an omega.

"What should I call you?"

It makes his eyes go wide, hearing his alpha's strong voice being used to ask a question like that. A question he hasn't been asked in so so long...if he was ever asked in the first place.

He smiles to himself, almost finding himself mushy eyed by the simple gesture. "Jaskier," he whispers, says so softly because he's unsure and emotional but Geralt hears him nonetheless.

His alpha smiles, small, but it's enough to make him feel all warm inside. 

Geralt takes the rabbit from the stick, and rips some of the meat off of it and holds it out for him. "Hot," he says as he reaches for it, and he nods his head as he begins to nibble on it.

It's good.

He hides his smile behind his eating. Embarrassed at how easily his resolve is crumpled by a few sweet words.

... 

He's a hopeless romantic at heart. It makes everything worse. The fact that he longs for something he'll never have. He's just a toy, just an omega, just something no one could ever love...really love.

————————————————————

He lays on the furs, fire dying out, and the wind picking up. He shivers and Geralt snuggles in behind him. His body is like a furnace...

It sends panic through him, for a moment, having Geralt pushed up against him. Being spooned, feeling the déjà vu of all the times its happened before.

Each time his alpha would be hard and rub against him, touching him, mouthing at his neck. He closes his eyes, tries to stop himself from imagining it, but it's just so hard to.

"Jaskier...what's wrong?"

Being asked something so simple breaks him. It does. He just starts crying. He can't help it. He's never been asked about his self-being. No one has ever called him by his name.

He sobs into his arm, his alpha goes stiff behind him, and he just keeps sobbing. Geralt pulls on his arm, flipping him around so that he's facing him.

His alpha doesn't look angry...just confused.

"I'm sorry," he sobs, clinching a hand in Geralt's shirt, burying his face against his alpha, seeking some sort of comfort even though he was usually met with disgust and anger. 

"I'm so sorry."

Geralt says nothing but he wraps a hand around his back, pulling him against his body, just holding him. He lets him sob against his chest as a small child would, and he just feels so good. To finally let out all these pent up feelings he's had.

He sobs and sobs while Geralt rubs his back wordlessly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short...

"Don't give me that lip."

He hears his alpha speak as he awakens and his heart drops. He worries that he's talking to him. Who else would he be? Was he talking too much? Did he hate it?

Did he realize he wanted to be called Alpha?

He opens his eyes, the light blinding him and the leftover smell of a burnt-out fire enters his nostrils. His alpha isn't beside him anymore but he's standing beside roach, brushing the horse's hair.

"This is all your fault and you know it." 

His alpha, his alpha who rarely talks to him, is talking to his horse. His horse for goodness sake. It feels almost insulting...

The horse whines and Geralt just huffs a breath. "I was not lonely. I had you didn't I?" Roach makes more noises and Geralt just continues brushing in silence, his eyes shooting daggers into the horse.

He lays there, dazed, just frustrated. Is he a bad omega? Why doesn't his alpha talk to him like that? Why? 

He groans and sits upright, cursing himself for having such thoughts. He's not supposed to have opinions, he's not supposed to have thoughts, he's just supposed to listen and follow commands.

"Feeling better?" His alpha asks, grunts more like, seemly turning back into the non-talker he was when they had fallen asleep together. He gives Geralt a lame nod before using his hand to stifle a yawn, he stands and stretches his arms and legs.

Geralt picks up the fur and rolls it back up before packing it away in roach's bag. He unties roach and gives the horse a little pat before gesturing for him to get on. He does, with help, and Geralt hops on behind him like it's nothing.

On a small dirt path they travel and he imagines the next town isn't far away. The silence is killing him though and he wonders. Was the Witcher lonely? He'd never taken them for the sort to be. 

Aren't they emotionless monsters? 

"Geralt," he says, his eyes still feel puffy and when he hears his voice he knows it sounds awful from his sobbing.

"Why did you buy me?"

He's out of line.

He knows he is.

His alpha says nothing.

————————————————————

"Why haven't you been claimed yet?" Geralt asks him, his breath tickling his neck. He sighs and looks out to the trees, to the birds who sing and the squirrels who watch them as they travel.

"I'd be practically worthless if I had been...and no one ever has intentions of keeping me."

His alpha makes a small sound, much like a "Huh," and his breath again lands warmly against his neck. 

He's talking too much, isn't he?

————————————————————

The village is small, grass and vines have taken it over. Big blooming roses are everywhere, on the sides of the houses and on the dirt roads. If he didn't know better he'd think the village was abandoned, it's so quiet and dead looking.

Nature has consumed this village.

The village windows are drawn closed, covered with broken dirty drapes. As Roach goes along, breaking sticks and crunching flowers below his hooves...one of the small house's drapes open and a small pair of eyes lookout.

Roach stops, Geralt pulls on the rein and the air seems to grow thick around them. Out from a small house is a small child, blond beautiful hair, clean pale skin, and a white pure dress around her figure. 

"Witcher," the small girl says, her voice a sweet melody. She does not smell, no pheromones come from the child. "Will you be staying?"

The whole thing is eerie. This sudden girl, her perfect perfection contrasting with the chaos around her. It...feels like some sort of trap but it's so exciting at the same time.

He didn't live an eventful life before...at least being forced into mating shouldn't be eventful.

"Yes," the rumble of his alpha helps soothe his discomfort of this situation.

————————————————————

In the small home, they sit in the dining room. The inside of the house is considerably better than the outside. It actually looks livable? Just a little dirty and dusty.

Nature hasn't consumed it yet.

"I assume there has been a monster plaguing this village?"

The little girl, the only life that they've seen since they've been here pours them tea. The tea lacks sugar, and the cups are cracked, but he drinks it anyway.

It's out of respect and the fact that his alpha drinks it too. Geralt sits beside him, smelling confident, and his body posture is nothing but serious.

"Yes..." the girl sits down at the table, across the table. She swallows, playing with her hands. "I don't have much to pay you Witcher...but I do have-" she gets up, walks down the hall into another room before returning with a rolled-up paper- "This...its a treasure map. Passed down generations and generations of my people. Never has the treasure been found..."

Geralt doesn't bother undoing the paper, doesn't bother seeing if what the girl claimed was true, doesn't bother asking all the important questions like where are all the people and what exactly is the creature?

"The creature lives on the outside the village, in a cave- I can lead you there."

"I'll do it," Geralt grunts, not asking anything, "I'll kill your monster."

The little girl smiles, a relieved sigh leaves her lips. 

He gets goosebumps. Why isn't Geralt asking these questions? Why is his alpha being so trusting? Is this what a Witcher's life is? Is this what he's to expect until Geralt gets sick of him?

"You may stay here tonight, there's a guest room this way." The girl stands and leads them down the hall to a small room, housing a single bed.

————————————————————

His alpha gets ready for the battle, for his trip to kill the beast. He checks his bag, looking over his potions and herbs. He also readjusts his armor and looks his swords over.

He sits on the bed, curled up, it's dusty and stiff but it's a bed. He doesn't have to ask to know...he'll be staying here. He'll be sitting here, all alone, while Geralt goes off and does his Witcher things.

He feels...like a weak omega. Being forced to be home, doing the normal cleaning and cooking while his alpha goes to work. What if he wants to go out on adventures too? What if he wants more from life?

He doesn't get to want. He's just an omega.

"I'll be back tonight, perhaps tomorrow...be good."

His alpha shuts the door behind him while he goes.

He sighs and shoves his face into his knees. He's always taking things for granted. His alpha doesn't want his body, his alpha is content with just his company...and yet he still finds himself wanting more, needing more.

He longs for adventure, action, to sing and learn the lute. He longs for romance, real love, not forced rolling in sheets.

He just wants more...although he knows he doesn't deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe I can’t wait until I can actually explain why Geralt got jaskier. It’s honestly so soft that I can’t even...but also it’s kinda sad in a way? Ahhhh I don’t want to spoil anything <3


	5. Chapter 5

_Why haven't you been claimed yet?_

He snorts, honestly, his heart can't even begin to settle after hearing that. Did Geralt really not know why? Had he never before been to auction?

If he was claimed he'd be worthless, not even worth a singular shilling. He lulls his head back and smiles to the ceiling. It's a strange thought really, for him, to actually be claimed.

To have someone's teeth bite into his neck, their mouth saying words of love and respect, they'll say to him so sweetly that they'll be together forever and he'll smile...and probably cry.

What a joke.

He's letting his alpha get to him again. His alpha, the alpha he's currently owned by, like all those other alphas who tried to lure him in. He can't do this. He can't let himself be swayed.

Freedom.

He wonders what it really means for him. If he were to run away, if he were to escape...as long as he's unclaimed he'd be thrown right back into the system. It's a shit world out there, isn't it?

His stomach grumbles and he shakes off all his negativity.

————————————————————

The sun is setting, as it tends to, and all his days mush together. It's always been like this. He's never done anything, except sleeping and mating. 

He searches the kitchen, of a home that isn't his, for something to snack on but finds it rather empty. He settles on an old piece of bread, harden, and close to molding.

He eats it in near silence, barely any sounds come from outside, and no sounds come from inside...all he really hears is crickets and the rustle of nearby trees. He sighs and tries to stay content.

Stuffing his face, licking his lips, playing with his collar. If he were to take it off...would he be able to hide his true self? Could he pretend to be a beta? Could he learn the lute at one of those fancy schools that don't accept Omegas?

Could he follow his dreams?

He actually finds himself tearing up and he quickly has to change the subject. 

How is Geralt doing? What kind of beast did he find? 

He sits his head against the table and stares off into space. Looking at the torn drapes, the fireplace missing a few bricks, and the rug on the floor in a dirty red color.

It's all strange to him.

————————————————————

"Please," he sighs, the entire house is consumed by darkness and he can't see much of anything. Dark shadows walk around, dancing on the walls, and he just can't find a single candle. 

Life hates him so much.

He stops digging through the box, the same box he's dug through for the last ten minutes and he gives up. He's not afraid of the dark but he certainly doesn't enjoy it. What the hell is that little girl made of? Steel?

He opens the front door, determining that outside is much lighter than inside, and there beside the door is Roach. "Hi," he says to the horse, giving it a little smile.

The horse whinnies and looks away, almost in disgust.

"Hey don't be that way! What's wrong with me huh? Just because I have two brain cells and smell like a field of flowers doesn't make me less of a man than that brute!"

He huffs when he's done and turns his head away in the same aggressive way Roach had. He feels adrenaline flow through his veins, hard and fast and he's reminded of the fact that he really loves to talk.

Gods does it feel good.

"Ah," he coughs, hiding a pink blush climbing up his neck. "I didn't mean all that okay? You've gotta understand there have been some wild rumors about that one you know?"

Like they're emotionless monsters...although Geralt has shown more care and love towards him than half the humans he's been with.

The horse ignores him.

He sits down on a small log, leans back against the house, and sighs. He really does smell like a field of flowers...his mom always said dandelions to be exact. That's why she gave him that ridiculously cute and insulting omega name.

Like who would ever want a bard named dandelion? That's precisely why he chose a stage name, a much better bolder one.

Jaskier.

————————————————————

"Jaskier?" He's awoken by a touching, a sweet airy touch of his face. He opens his eyes and comes face to face with his alpha, kneeling in front of him to be at his level, looking deeply at him with blacken eyes like those of the devil, and he reeks of concern.

He blinks a few times, not registering much of anything. It isn't until he hears voices that he realizes there are people, lots of people, and the vegetation that had taken over the village is nearly gone.

All the blooming roses, all the vines, and grass, gone without a trace.

"Jaskier?" His alpha repeats, more urgently, his hands on the sides of his face, his fingers caressing him in worry.

"Yes..." he says, no emotion, just for a more caught in a state of amazement. Somehow, staring into this demon's eyes, he finds himself being enamored.

It just hits him all at once that...Geralt is attractive to him. It makes his cheeks flair up, red and hot, and he tries to cough to cover it up. His alpha moves in closer, holding him tighter, smelling so terrible from the concern and...panic.

"I'm fine," he finally huffs, suddenly feeling way too self-conscious. "I couldn't find a candle last night and oh Geralt it was so very dark. I didn't mean to fall asleep out here-I didn't mean to worry you I-"

Geralt places his hand against his mouth, stopping his rambling. His alpha concern melts away, he sighs and then a small strange smile is on his lips.

"That's the most I've ever heard you speak."

Not scolding nor praise exactly...but it makes his heart skip a couple of beats. Geralt stands, pulling him up as he goes, and he looks out to villagers who all hug and cry against each other while praising the gods...not Geralt, not the Witcher.

"What kind of monster was it?" He asks Geralt but he does not receive an answer, only a look. A strange look...like Geralt had not expected to be asked such a question.

It almost seemed like Geralt didn't answer because he thought he was too soft. Like the simple knowledge of what he had done and what monster he had killed would upset him.

It makes him feel awful.

Knowing that his alpha thinks like that...even after everything.

————————————————————

As they are getting ready to leave the village he receives a few smiles and waves from the villagers. Nothing is given to Geralt though...and that hurts to see.

Geralt packs away the treasure map into Roach's bag, still not bothering to open it. He isn't sure where Geralt got it from, seeing as he hasn't seen that little girl around...and it makes his stomach cramp.

"Geralt."

Geralt makes a noise, indicating that he is in fact listening.

"Where is that little girl?"

Geralt looks at him, emotionlessly and simply pets Roach.

"Dead."

"Oh...did you-"

"She was from the start."

He doesn't understand, not deeply, because Geralt won't tell him what really happened or what monster he killed...but is he to believe she was a ghost? A phantom? Is he to believe that?

Perhaps.

What about the villagers? Where did they all come from? Is he to believe they used to be the roses? Is he to believe some monster turned this village into a garden because they were angry at humans for not caring about the environment?

These are all things he assumes...with all the little things he's learned. He's not as stupid and naive as Geralt thinks he is. Even if Geralt won't tell him, even if Geralt doesn't think he could handle the truth he's determined to figure it out.

He leans his head against roach and laughs. He's a stupid man, isn't he? What is thinking? That he has any right to know a Witcher's job. That he has any right to challenge his alpha's authority. That he has any right to pretend he's not an omega for a moment, that he's worth more than his heats.

He laughs to himself and he smells his scent. Disgustingly sweet, disgustingly happy, disgustingly content.

Geralt pats his back, slowly, hesitation fills each movement, and he just stands there feeling so useless. Where are all these thoughts coming from? Why does he have all these un omega thoughts?

Why does life laugh at him like this?

He'll never truly be happy.

This is only temporary. Even the Witcher will grow tired of him soon enough and then he'll be just another bed warmer.

Will the next village be his last with the Witcher? It's hard to say but he can predict the answer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some non-con moments in here technically. Not between Geralt and Jaskier...but I’m just giving a warning although I don’t know if I really need to.

To the next town they go, on Roach. She seems to be more welcoming. She doesn't glare nor look as heavily down upon him as she did that first day they met. So things are getting better he supposes. He has questions though.

Where will this town be? How far away is it?

He's never really been a traveler so he doesn't really have a grasp on the whole moving town to town thing. Usually, a Noble would purchase him and keep him in his bedroom as a belonging. Nobody really seemed to regard him as a person, as a feeling living being.

But Geralt is different.

He's going on these adventures with him...although Geralt is a little stingy with all the details he can figure it out. It's all just kinda magical, seeing these things he's only heard of, being near this person he's only thought of as a monster.

He could write about this. He really could...but he's never heard of an omega author...or bard. He wonders if he could be the first, if maybe it's his job to push through the boundaries that no one else has dared.

Of course, that's just crazy talk, isn't it?

"Geralt," he hums, just letting himself be a little rebellious. Then he bites on his cheek and says nothing more.

Stupid brain. He can't be rebellious...he's letting himself get carried away. He's just an omega.

"Jaskier," the alpha says, not scolding, but just the mere fact that his alpha has spoken forces him back into his shell.

He wishes he could talk freely. He wishes he could comment on the pleasant smell Geralt has or the fact that he is a very well kept man despite everything. Of course, his alpha might think these are stupid things to think about.

Do Witchers care about their vanity?

He isn't quite sure.

————————————————————

"Why are you doing that?" 

It spooks him. He flinches and goes still, practically in Geralt's lap. "What?" He squeaks, gods, he really squeaks all high pitched like.

"The humming."

Oh. Was he humming? He doesn't remember...but he does that sometimes. Humming a toon he wished he could sing, humming a toon he wished he could write, humming a toon he'd definitely play if he had a lute.

"Sorry I won't do it again."

He lies.

He'll probably do it again.

————————————————————

They only make it halfway to the next town. Again they are stuck in the forest with the sun going down...and he has a feeling that if Geralt didn't have him he would have just kept going.

Witchers aren't afraid of the dark.

But little old Omegas are.

He sits on the fur already laid out, and just stares into the already lit fire. He feels completely useless. Geralt does everything.

Usually, he'd cook (he's terrible at it,) and sometimes he'd wash laundry in a stream(he'd always get soaked.) But out here in the wilderness...he doesn't know how to do anything. All he could do...all he could be useful is for stress relief...letting his alpha inside of him...

He won't.

He'll never offer himself up like a piece of meat. He'll die before that happens. His alpha would have to beat him into submission. 

Geralt...hasn't shown any interest in that though. It really puzzles him. Just why would Geralt get an omega if not for mating? What other use could he possibly have?

He isn't sure.

Geralt returns, through a bush, again, holding a small squirrel.

————————————————————

"It's good," he praises his alpha as he eats, even though he should probably just keep his mouth shut.

Geralt doesn't regard his words with any importance anyway. Geralt just gives a small hum of acknowledgment and eats his own portion. 

Something...gleams in his eyes though, and he doesn't know what to think about it.

————————————————————

He doesn't feel so bad tonight. Laying on his side, Geralt spooning him, warming him up and scenting him. It's all just...happening.

Crickets are in the bushes, in the grass, they sing them to sleep. It's relaxing, it's fine, it's perfect.

He tries not to think about the fact that Geralt's breath tickles his neck. He tries not to think about the fact that so many alphas have done this to him before.

He tries not to remember.

————————————————————

A Black shadow is above him, holding down his arms, his legs, forcing his mouth open with its slimy tongue. It enters his mouth, painting his tastebuds with an inky flavor that makes him gag and cough against the shadow.

He's going to throw up.

"Stop-" he tries to say between the sloppy licking. It doesn't come out, his heart is racing, he's being taken.

The hands wander down his body, they leave a wet sticky residue on him that burns his skin right off. He screams against the shadow, he screams against this big looming shape.

This monster.

"Please no," he begs this figure, crying against its might he can't do anything. He's just a toy, just this thing's playmate until he dies...and god he wishes for death...for peace.

"No."

He's melting into the space beneath him, it's sucking him in, ink is pouring over him, intoxicating him with the very scent. He can't breathe, he can't move, he can't do this.

_Jaskier_

Please make it stop. Someone help him. Someone-

_Jaskier_

The shadow opens its eyes, glaring down at him with disgust. Disgust for having a voice, for daring to speak against its power.

"Jaskier!"

He jolts in Geralt's hold, panting, and sweating so much his hair is smoothed against his skin. "You were having a nightmare," Geralt shushes him, hold him tightly, stopping his body from shaking out of control.

A nightmare.

That's all.

It's not real...

His cheeks are wet...he was crying. "It's okay," Geralt reassures him, releasing all these calming pheromones that make his heartbeat come back down.

He just stares at the moon, at the stars, and he just keeps breathing. He doesn't want to remember, he doesn't want to feel, he doesn't want to acknowledge the truth within that nightmare.

"I'm here for you," again his alpha speaks, again, and he just takes another breath.

He turns over and snuggles against Geralt's chest. He doesn't cry, he doesn't speak, he just clenches a hand in his shirt and stays there.

He just...he just needs this right now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

Geralt is in a bad mood. He puts away the fur, he takes a deep breath and almost seems to grind his teeth. And his scent, it's down right disgusting.

He stands off to the side, he seems to have slept on his chest wrong because his nipples hurt. Not that it matters at the moment. Currently he's completely taken aback by the sudden hurt in that scent, the sudden anger and disgust that bleeds through into the air. 

He's afraid...

He can't help it. He's smelled those scents so many times while his alphas beat him, held him down and forced his legs open with their hips, they would touch him lewdly...and tell him he's such a big slut.

He never wanted it.

"Geralt," he calls to his alpha, in some attempt to calm the fire that's been lit in his heart, in his glare. It doesn't work. Geralt doesn't acknowledge him...he just gets on Roach, extending a hand down to help him up.

He takes it.

The silence is blood curling to his ears, not peaceful.

————————————————————

He wants so desperately to ask what's wrong. Why Geralt has suddenly become like those Alphas he's always had, cold, harsh, ruthless. Nothing about him is that soft Witcher who bought him off an auction block.

He crosses his arms against his chest, defensively, just trying to keep calm. Geralt behind him is stiff and grinding his teeth about something...

Geralt leans down, sniffing at him, and he freezes up underneath the very idea of being sized up by this alpha.

This is it. Geralt has been lying to him all along, pretending to be some hero...as if his nice gestures were anything but a ploy to get into his pants. He can't believe he keeps letting his guard down.

How many times has an alpha promised him a bed? A warm meal? And then ripped it right out of his hands, forcing him to sleep on the cold floor. It was always worse though when he was offered a position as a bed warmer, just an object to never ever leave the bedroom. Only there to please, to do what the alpha desires no matter how ridiculous.

He hates alphas.

All they do is take and take without giving...at least that's what he thought until Geralt. That was his stupidity shining through, why would Geralt be any different? Geralt isn't even human.

"Your heat is coming up," Geralt whispers like it's some sin. His voice tickles his neck and he closes his eyes, takes a breath. Everything falling over in a quick wave of water. That's why his nipples were hurting, gods. that's the earliest sign how could he have missed it?

He was too busy worrying about his alpha.

"It's still at least a week away...perhaps two," he says shakily, how could Geralt have known? He can't smell anything on himself, he doesn't feel hot or sticky yet, for gods sake he hasn't even gotten the urge to nest yet. So how? There's no way Geralt could tell just from his scent...or is there?

Is that what a Witcher's nose can really tell? Is that what their super human senses are good for? Detecting Heats?

It makes him smile for a moment, just one before Geralt leans back and away. Once again going tense and just giving off the vibe of don't talk to me.

He doesn't.

————————————————————

The town isn't anything special. Mothers hang up clothes on clothing lines, scolding their children who run through the dirt streets. Fathers cut wood for their fires, wiping sweat off of their forehead after each swing of the axe.

There are others too. Alphas who's scent turns to discomfort at the sight of Geralt. A few of them even bare their teeth as if they were challenging Geralt to a fight. He's never seen alphas so territorial before.

Geralt leans forward, placing his arm around his stomach before pulling him back snug against him, almost protectively. But something about the interaction makes his stomach churn.

————————————————————

In a tavern he finds himself, in a booth located in the corner, sat beside Geralt he eats, surrounded by the music of a bard, nothing special. He's never even heard of the guy before.

It's a simple ham soup. It's warm and that's all that matters. He has to physically stop himself from shoving it inside his mouth, simply because he knows that these meals won't last forever. Eventually Geralt will tire of spoiling him.

"Jaskier," Geralt sighs, staring into his own soup which has gone untouched since the moment he had gotten it. "Just what am I to you?" He asks this question, very slowly, his eyes going from the soup to his face, as if the golden gaze was tracing his features.

He didn't want to think like that. Think about his alpha sizing him up, seeing all the parts he wants to grab at and smoother with lust filled affection. 

Is Geralt just patiently waiting for his heat? Is he just edging himself so that when he finally takes him it's...better?

He's making himself sick. The ham turns bitter in his mouth and he fights the urge to throw up. He swallows hard before sitting his spoon on the side of bowl.

"You're my alpha," he says, looking into Geralt's eyes, seeing the sudden furrow of Geralt's eyebrows as his scent is heavier, more anger. 

"I thought so," Geralt muttered, gently placing both his hands around his neck. 

He tenses up. Geralt's hands are big, they squeeze his neck, and for a moment he feels a sick sense of dread. Geralt doesn't want to mate with him, he wants to kill him, he wants to watch the life drain from his face.

He isn't supposed to fight it. He's just an object. But his hands instinctively fly up and grasp Geralt's arms, digging his nails in.

Geralt just stares. 

Then Geralt does something sinful. Wrong. Against the law even. Geralt rips that collar off his neck, letting the tattered pink ribbon fall onto the floor.

"I didn't purchase you so you could be my slave. Human lives shouldn't be measured by usefulness."

Of course he's crying. It's just so liberating, feeling air against his neck, hearing Geralt try to...try to make him feel important even if he's nothing, and to know that...he's found a good man.

With everything he's been through. With all that he knows he is and isn't. 

Geralt broke those barriers for him, allowing him room to breathe, to think for himself for a moment.

"Then-" he swallows roughly, tears rolling down his cheeks. "What am I to you?" What is he supposed to be? If not an omega? If not a bed warmer what is he anymore?

"A man," Geralt said, leaning back, letting this sudden realization sink in. Geralt stands, moving out from the booth as the music picks up. "You may do as you please...and follow me if you wish."

Freedom.

He doesn't know what to do. He stands, jelly in his legs, needing to go, needing to be with at alpha's side. Except this isn't his alpha anymore. This is just Geralt, a Witcher, his hero. The man who decided his freedom was worth more than what the world thought of him.

He grabbed Geralt's hand, holding tightly, panting. He doesn't know what he wants to do. He doesn't know what he should to do because he's doing things he was never supposed to do.

He doesn't know how to be himself.

"I'll follow you."

Geralt said nothing but he had a softness to him, his posture, his scent, and even a smile on his lips. Just small, just barely even noticeable. 

He just can't help that he's crying.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good night <3

The first thing he does, with his newfound freedom, is talk. Which is certainly something he could have done before but not like this. Not like the pure blabbering and ranting and just letting his mouth say whatever he wants.

Geralt, for the most part, ignores him while he buys them a room with his coin. His eyebrows only twitching to indicate that yes, in fact, even he can't ignore him forever.

"Geralt this the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me," he coos, red-eyed, his voice a little rough from his sobbing. He follows Geralt into their room and feels a new sense of power.

"Of course this could only be temporary...what with my scent and all there's no doubt I'll have to be re-collared eventually but-"

"Did you talk this much before?" Geralt says, a little distastefully he might add. 

He goes silent. Unsure of the boundaries.

Geralt doesn't seem to notice for a moment, too engaged in testing out the bathwater. Then he stops, his palm in the water, steam rising up and away.

"I-" Geralt stares in the water for a moment, just caught in thought, staring at his reflection. "Your voice is nice."

The tips of ears burn red and he can't help as he stands but wobble side to side. "Your fears are unrealistic, there are suppressants."

He stopped moving, couldn't help it really. He'd never heard of an omega taking suppressants, never really heard of anyone taking them really. A mix of rare herbs and magic, only a mage could really do it justice.

He shakes his head.

Geralt doesn't see it though, as he's currently getting undressed, already seeming to claim the bath as his own. "I don't think they make those anymore," he says, bites out really, loving the way his own voice rumbles his chest.

He turns away and sits on the bed, attempting to give Geralt privacy although there is no door between the bath and the bedroom so he can see everything. The scars that run down Geralt's back, the bruises on his thighs, and a few smaller scratches on his arms. 

Geralt sits in the bath, tilting his head back, relaxing for a moment before making a noise that indicates he was in fact listening.

He sighs and lays back against the bed, tired but too full of emotions to rest. 

"Geralt?"

"Hm."

He places an arm over his eyes, a slight hitch in his breath as his heart jumps. 

"Do you think it's stupid of me to dream of being more to the world."

It was silent for a while. Just a sound of water moving around and the crackle of a warm fire. Small, but enough to cast a golden glow over the room.

"No."

At least Geralt is trying to make him feel better. Trying to push him to do more...although that pause was suspicious if he does say so himself.

But maybe he's asking for too much. Geralt is already talking more than he has for their whole trip.

————————————————————

"My neck itches...it's cold in here. Is it funny that I miss the collar already? I feel so naked without it. Geralt-"

"I take it back," Geralt says, standing from his bath...without even properly washing his hair, and steps out of the tub with seemingly no shame seeing as he didn't even give a warning. 

He panics and jerks his head to the side and shuts his eyes. He saw nothing. He didn't see a thing. Not at all.

At least if he tells himself that long enough he'll probably be able to really believe that.

He didn't see any of those toned, glistening muscles nor what hangs between Geralt's legs. That would be absolutely far from the truth.

It makes his skin crawl for a moment. Just having the reality that he could have seen it much earlier...if Geralt was like those other alphas. If Geralt was the type to relish in dominating little omegas who never stood a chance.

"Your voice is annoying," Geralt continues on with his thought, seeming to speak so much more than he had in days. It didn't make sense. None of these things made sense but...that part particularly gave him unease.

His throat closes up, his mouth is dry as he peers back over to Geralt, who is now halfway dressed. Geralt smiles at him...but then it drops and turns into a frown.

"It was a joke."

It didn't sound like one. Not to him. Not to all those years he's been told his voice is annoying and unomegan like. That he just didn't fit the mold in that department but apparently was omegan enough to forcefully mate with again and again as though it was an annual tradition.

It makes him sick to his stomach.

"I'll take the floor," it startles him, in fact, he questions himself if he even heard it. The floor? What is Geralt thinking? They've slept together since he was...inquired. 

But he was Geralt's omega then and now-

What are they? He isn't sure. He just knows Geralt doesn't want him to be his omega any more nor his mate. If he ever did in the first place.

Geralt steals a blanket and a pillow from the bed and makes a makeshift bed on the floor in front of the fire. He lays down on it, tensely, but his scent is pleasant, so very pleasant that he just couldn't imagine laying on the floor and being that happy.

He knows you don't.

It's something else. Something else is making Geralt smell happy. Happy like he's never smelled during their entire time traveling together.

He gets in bed, unsure of how to act. The bed is big, huge even, it was meant for two people so it quickly consumes his small form. 

He's alone. 

So alone...and yet scared.

There's no alpha to hold him. No alpha to steal his trust and touch his slits. No alpha to scent him until he can't even breathe. Honestly? He doesn't even know how to function with this much freedom.

Somehow he finds himself wishing for warmth, for Geralt's scent, for his chest to bury his face into.

He sleeps on his side.

————————————————————

He heard rumors about Witchers. So many of them. How they were emotionless, how they were monsters, how they had a tendency to turn on humans. Just so many things.

Their presence could make you ill. Their mouths were full of fangs so sharp that if they spoke more than a few words at a time they were liable to bite off their own tongues.

All of which he's found to be false and entirely ridiculous. He wonders were people get these ideas.

He's also heard another rumor though. One he hadn't even known he heard until he got a look at Geralt earlier, and it just hit him hard. 

Some say Witchers are unable to reproduce...

It would be a shame if that were the case, seeing at how hung Geralt is. At least...that's the thought that sparked it. That walk on memory lane.

"Geralt," he calls out, unknowing if Geralt is even still awake.

"Hm."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Silence, then another "hm," which he can only assume means yes.

"Are you able to...to reproduce?"

Silence again.

Heavy silence.

His heart pounds, his head spins, now it's not just him being free, it's him crossing lines. He's so stupid. Letting the idea of being...normal cloud his vision.

Who would want to answer a question like that?

Shuffling as Geralt sits upright before peering over at him strangely. A strange scent leaving him, one of which he can't label properly. 

"No."

He's terrible. Absolutely terrible. He basically forced Geralt to remember something he probably isn't happy about, not proud of, or comfortable with for Gods sake.

He's so disgusted in himself...for being the one to violate someone else's boundaries. He should know better. He should have never because he knows how much it hurts.

"That's not to say that I don't enjoy trying."

His heart drops.

Just sudden relief at Geralt's scent turning playful, sweet, all those things people said Witchers couldn't smell like.

Geralt lays back down, seemingly much happier than before. As if the invasion of privacy was not as invasive as he had thought.

Gods, he's so dramatic. Always overthinking. Always on the defensive.

Always forgetting to think before he speaks.

That's precisely why he stopped talking. That's why he built up walls because he was...just an omega. An object, not meant to talk back nor have an opinion. So he kept his mouth shut so he wouldn't lose his life.

But now...

Now that he's...not an omega anymore to Geralt...it's okay right? To have thoughts? Opinions? Is it alright to make mistakes like that? To open his mouth and talk without thinking like that.

He sleeps rather peacefully that night. The question still lingering on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier talking too much? It’s more likely than you think.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good day <3

Geralt is gone when he awakens but he isn't particularly worried. It isn't like Geralt is his alpha or anything. Why would he worry about what Geralt does with his free time?

Geralt wouldn't ever just leave him, right? Geralt wouldn't abandon him here after liberating him...would he?

No. Of course not. That's just silly.

But now all his feelings of power have worn off and he just feels down. He imagines he's feeling an emotional hangover of sorts.

————————————————————

The second thing he does with his newfound freedom is take a bath. He warms up a bucket of water by the fireplace and then adds it to the already drawn cold water. It makes it a Lukewarm temperature but that's fine for him.

He gets inside, hissing at the coldness of the tub, it's metal exterior a not so comfortable choice. Porcelain is much better but of course, this isn't exactly a rich town.

He feels good.

No one told him to get a bath. He just...went and did it. 

How sinful.

No one is yelling at him to get out. No one is here. Geralt wouldn't do that anyway.

He washes his hair, his body, using a little inn provided soap that smells like nothing. It does, however, do good to erase Geralt's scent off his skin...and in all honesty, he hadn't realized it was so strongly intertwined with his own scent until then. Until erasing that scent made his heart lurch in his chest and all he could think of is his alpha.

He needs Geralt.

Of course, he scrubbed and scrubbed until his body was thoroughly red with welts and the needing and wanting he felt was replaced with pain. He doesn't need an alpha. He doesn't need Geralt.

He stands, water splashing rather violently when he did for it was a sudden movement. He stepped out of the tub and redressed in his rags, and he was hit with Geralt's scent. It's all through his clothes and when he leans down and sniffs at them all he can do is whine.

_Alpha_

He knows where this instinct comes from. Why it's bubbling out from his subconscious. His heat is coming, his body is starting to desire a mate. Which is exactly why he had to ask Geralt that question, had to know if it was true or not, because somewhere in his subconscious...he was projecting his need on to Geralt.

Geralt can't reproduce.

He can't make children, pups. He can mate though...right? He believes that's what Geralt suggested with the- That isn't to say I don't enjoy trying- remark he had.

He doesn't like how his heartbeats. How it picks up in his chest when he thinks too hard about Geralt. He hates it so much because he knows it's all his omega instincts fault.

Omegas are emotional.

So stupidly Emotional.

————————————————————

His next step in freedom-in his new journey to be himself he supposes- is to sit in the bed and stare at the ceiling. Not very inspiring you might say, and you'd be right but he isn't quite sure what he's allowed to do.

He slaps a hand over his face and curses his very broken mind. He's allowed to anything now. He's been permitted to by his- Geralt. He's been allowed this fleeting luxury.

Can he really go outside? All by himself? He wants to...but he's too afraid to go through with it. What if someone smelled him? It wouldn't be hard.

What if they asked him where his alpha was? What if they asked where his collar was?

what would he do but freeze up and be taken? Have some alpha lay claim to him...

He rolls over, sick to his stomach, and ignores the sour taste of acid that enters his mouth.

————————————————————

He awakens later from his nap, not much later, as he feels groggy when he opens his eyes. The door to the room opens and a click echoes through the room. He sits upright with a yawn.

Geralt walks in the room his scent so overwhelmingly strong. An alphas's musk but doubled. It's unlike the scent he had when he went to sleep in more ways than the intent.

"I've gotten a job," Geralt deadpans before throwing something into his lap.

He registers the small thump before a soft leathery bag comes into his vision. He plays with its strings before opening it up and coming face to face with many coins.

"What's this for?" He asks, grasping one of the coins gently. He's never particularly been allowed money. Omegas didn't have any belongings.

"Food," Geralt said gruffly while turning, seemingly to leave although he just got there. "I’ll be gone until sunrise."

He nods, holding the bag, holding the trust Geralt have to him. Right? Geralt is trusting him to be sensible with his coin.

"What kind of monster is it?" He asks while Geralt has one foot out the door. Geralt looks back, shift in his scent to something lighter, and he just looks like he’s determining whether or not he can handle it.

"Werewolf."

Geralt is gone before he can even thank him. Thank him for having just a tiny bit of faith in him.

————————————————————

He walks down to the bar after what has to have been hours of working himself up. Questions just kept coming over him, his thoughts ran and ran, and his heart...it almost popped in his chest it was beating so fast.

Just what if someone approached him? What if someone knew he was an omega?

It was so hard to steady his steps. To pretend to be confident, to pretend he wasn't at the bottom of the food chain. The bottom of the stairs came much quicker than he expected and when he stepped foot into the tavern his breath was cut short. Just so many smells he hadn't worried about before.

Most of the people who hovered around the bar were alphas. He could smell their musk, the musk that's built up from weeks between bathes because this was one of those backwater towns. 

None of these alphas cared about their vanity.

He swallowed but made his way to the bar and stood by while the bartender served an alpha their ale. It took the bartender at least 67 heart beats to notice him, not that he was counting or anything.

"What can I get ya?" The bartender called to him as he walked over.

"Ham soup," he said quickly, squeaky, his scent probably gave away all the things he's trying to hide. Like his fear.

"Six coins," the bartender said before walking away and slipping into a back room. 

He retrieved six coins and waited patiently. Ignoring the looks he received, the look of alphas who's eyes seemed to trace his features. They looked at him in a hungering way and more than ever he just wanted to leave.

The bartender returns with a bowl, it's contents steaming, and a smell of ham wafts off out it. He sits it down on the counter before taking his coin.

He quickly takes it and walks away. Unable to stand another minute of being looked at like that.

————————————————————

He eats his soup, content, on the bed just staring into the fire. He was half afraid someone might follow him but it seems he was just worrying too much as per usual.

It's just natural for him though. To be worried, to always keep his ears open and his eyes scanning his surroundings.

————————————————————

After downing his dinner, with nothing else to do he sits by a window and watches the people below. No children run around, they all seem to be stuck to their mother's side, apparently scared of something. Their mothers whisper words of comfort as they go along their daily day.

He places his hands on the windowsill and then his head on his hands. The sun is going down, an orange glow starting to fall on the dirt streets, some businesses are closing up.

It all seems quite...domestic. Ignoring, of course, the monster problem but Geralt is surely handling it.

————————————————————

He goes to bed alone that night as he expected to. The bed stilled seemed big, huge even, and he had some sick longing for it to be filled. To have a warm body beside his, a nice comforting scent for him to fall asleep too...

But that's just terrible, isn't it? After everything he's been through he should be eating up this new freedom but he just can't seem to be happy about it.

He rolls over, laying on his side, watching as a ray of moonlight shines on Geralt's makeshift bed. Just a thin blanket and an even thinner pillow. It can't be comfortable, no way it is.

But...he can't help but look at the blankets with want. With a strange desire to pick up the blanket and hold it against his chest and inhale Geralt's scent.

It's just a comforting thought.

Geralt is comforting.

Geralt is...Geralt is his everything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a wonderful day!

The sunlight blinds him as he rolls over, determined to put a pillow on his head and continue sleeping but the sudden click of the door makes him sit upright. His head spinning as he struggles to keep himself from throwing up from the sudden movement. A feeling bubbling inside, viscous and liquidly, a overwhelming hit in the stomach of the day before.

Of the thoughts he had just before he slept.

_Of Geralt_

He feels disgusted with himself, for even thinking for a moment of Geralt being his everything. He's becoming more and more diluted by this alpha, by this man. 

No alpha will ever own him.

Yet, he can't deny Geralt is something to him. A hero, comfort, maybe even...an attraction. But everything? Never.

He won't be swayed with soft words and a smile. He won't be baited into giving his omega side control. He'll keep those emotions bottled up until he's sure he's safe.

A couple laughs outside his door before they move on and walk into the neighboring room. He sits back against the wall in a sigh, stomach acid jumping up his throat, burning it before leaving a taste of rotten ham.

He can't go back to sleep so he waits. Waits with a hand on his lap, his eyes stuck tracing the lines on his palm, his small soft palms. Ones meant to cradle a pup...

He's never been offered the opportunity. He was always given herbs before each mating session or shortly after, preventing any chance of conception...not that he was against it. 

He's never wanted one, outside of his heats, particularly because if he had no hope of becoming a bard as an omega, he'd most definitely have no chance in hell as a pregnant one.

A sound of heavy footsteps echo outside the room, they stop at the door and wait for a second. Geralt opens the door slowly, peering inside as if being considered of his companion's sleeping schedule. Once his eyes settle on him, being very much awake, he walks inside giving no indication that what he did even occurred.

"And so you lived," he says, poetically he might add while he raises a hand to wipe away the sleep from his eyes.

"Hm," Geralt says, grabbing a rag from the bathroom before wiping off his armor in some attempt to make the blood look less menacing he assumes.

"Did it go well?"

Another hum comes from Geralt and he feels a sense of unease. He can pretend to understand the Witcher, pretend he knows what he's thinking, pretend that he knows why he shifts his scents so often but he doesn't. 

He doesn't know why one minute the Witcher is talkative, happy, a pleasant scent rolling off of him, and the next he's cold, and his scent is closer to death, dirt, and somewhat woody.

A strange combination.

A strange contradiction.

The Witcher is strange in general.

"I'm glad you can fend for yourself," the Witcher says, tossing the rag in a bucket before grabbing his coin bag from the nightstand. 

"How-"

"Your neck is as pale as a fish's belly," Geralt ties the bag to his side.

"Oh," he says, suddenly self-conscious. He hadn't even considered that to be a possibility but it makes sense. He'd had his neck covered up so long that of course, it's not as tan as the rest of him.

"We should get going," Geralt says, a small frown overtaking his thin-lipped expression. "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

He nods quickly before standing and half hazardously making the bed. He can only imagine Geralt coming back, stepping one foot in the tavern only for his ears to pick on the whispers of all those alphas. All those alphas talking about The Witcher's omega.

He follows Geralt away from here, every hair on his body standing up.

————————————————————

Geralt retrieves Roach from a stable. The girl snorts and flings her head up and almost clocks Geralt right in the side of the head, luckily though his reflexes let him move just so to the side to avoid her beating.

"Roach," Geralt sighed with complete and utter defeat. His eyes looking on the horse with what seemed to be pity.

"We'll travel on foot for now," Geralt said, holding Roach's lead gingerly as he leads the way on a dirt path, getting more rocky as they leave the town. "She's been rather haggard, having to haul us around."

_Having to haul you around_

Right. Horses aren't exactly two passenger machines. They are living, breathing beings who are often looked down on as being a tool. 

His skin crawls, a sudden feeling of dread as he looks behind him and the town seems to be getting further and further away but it's not just that...it's getting darker and darker. The leaves of these trees all grow together into a roof, keeping any sunlight from reaching the forest bottom.

He follows behind Geralt, his eyes ever so often drifting to Roach. A sudden familiarly with the animal. 

"I wanted to be a bard," he says, making conversation, not really expecting anything to come of it. Geralt makes some sort of noise as if he was internally laughing at the very thought.

"Is that how you plan to pay me back?"

His heart drops, not just drops though it plummets to the bottom of his body as the words sink in. Geralt expects payment for all of his troubles. 

He supposes that makes sense. Considering he's no longer a belonging, Geralt should get his money back...or else he'd be in debt for the rest of his life and he doesn't want to be. But...just hearing that makes him realize that yes, Geralt doesn't want him following him around forever.

He needs to get his own life now. He can do what he wants. He can go and be a bard and play in taverns and earn coin...his own coin, and buy whatever he wants and then...

And then what?

He's scared of being alone. It must be some sort of separation anxiety he reasons. To be separated from all of the rules he had known, to throw away a lifestyle he had once condemned himself to, and to let go of the idea that he's nothing. That he's just an alpha's plaything.

He doesn't necessarily even need Geralt. Not in the sense that Geralt is important to him in any other way than friendship. Right? That's what they are now? Friends.

Geralt isn't his everything.

Geralt is just his beginning.

He smiles to himself, staring at Geralt's back, watching as Roach nudges Geralt's cheek, leaving a wet residue on his skin. 

"Can you even play the lute?" Geralt asks, drawing back his attention to reality and how eerily dark it has become.

He thinks he might hear an owl in the distance and the trees are starting to look...particularly strange in some spots. Big white feathery strains of something clumps together in the trees, it weaves through branches and gets denser and denser as they continue going on in the forest.

He'd compare it perhaps to the webbing of a spider...or hair.

"No...but, in theory, it shouldn't be too difficult to master."

"Hm."

He wants to say more, but the further along they go the darker the woods become and the more silver hair weaves through the tree limbs. The hair has to end, no beginning, it's all just one straight path leading somewhere. 

Leading where ever they are currently heading.

"Geralt where are we going?" He nearly squeaks as he trips over a rock, for a moment his life must have flashed over his eyes. 

"North," Geralt says, deadpans really.

If he had more common sense he'd have told Geralt off. But honestly, he didn't even know they were going north, he lacks traveling skills.

His feet ache, nothing unbearable, but it reminds him of strange things. Visions of running around his childhood home, his mother yelling at him 'stop that, pet.' It's strange really because he doesn't have many memories of his life before.

When they first picked him up they had a mage wipe his memory, to make him more obedient. The only thing he really kept was the most important bits, like his dream to become a bard. He doesn't even know for sure where the dream comes from or what had started it.

He's been starting to remember more, like his mother's voice, but he used to not even know if he had ever had parents. A strange daunting thing that gave him much more pain then he'd ever known.

To think for a moment that maybe his parents just abandoned him at an auction. He was so relieved when he remembered, when he finally remembered being kidnapped off the streets of his childhood town. The name of which he still hasn't recovered.

Something touches him. It's light and feathery and for a moment he thinks it might have been Roach's tail but no, he turns his head and all he sees a huge white strain of hair. It caresses his cheek, almost lovingly.

He can't help that he lets out a scream of horror or that his first reflex is to take five steps and cling to Geralt's side like his life depends upon it. Geralt looks down at him a look of concern and uninterested battling on his face.

"Geralt it-" he looks behind them, watching as small child-like hands, covered in what looks to be blood, reaching down and pulling up the white strains before disappearing into treetops. He thinks he must have peed himself a little. "Geralt it touched me," he sputters, holding onto Geralt's arm so strongly that he's sure he's cutting off circulation somewhere. 

Geralt's face finally settles on a smile and he looks away, as if trying to hide it.

"Please tell me I'm not going to die."

Geralt refuses to look back at him, his smile seeming to grow wider as he trembles against his side. 

"Geralt it has hands! Red little gooey hands Geralt! Please tell me it was not tasting me."

Geralt breaks he uses his opposite hand, holding Roach's lead, to contain a small laugh. Something that once rings out, makes laughter echo back from the forest.

A burst of childish laughter that fills him with even more dread.

"It likes you," Geralt says, looking down at him with reassurance in his scent. A sweetness that he'd lacked for a good portion of their walking. He stiffs at Geralt rather shamelessly, letting himself calm down.

Geralt wouldn't let him die.

"Are you sure? I’m almost certain it was testing how delicious I am."

"It was simply admiring your soft skin. The Varga is a creature obsessed with its own vanity and that of others."

Varga, he's never heard of such a creature before. He supposes though, that all this hair must be connected somewhere to the creature. 

His skin crawls.

"They are harmless."

He trusts Geralt of course, but he can't help but have some doubts. 

He lessens his hold on Geralt's arm, changing his death grip to a gingerly hold to nothing. He leans away from Geralt, pink consuming his cheeks.

"Sorry," he mumbles embarrassingly, obviously he was being a major coward.

"Hm," Geralt looks up to the hair as if admiring its beauty.

————————————————————

The end of the forest is surprisingly soon. The sun hasn't even begun to set yet, although it felt like they were inside for a lifetime and a half. Instead of coming to a clearing, like he had assumed the would, they are greeted with a small little village. Only about nine houses, and what people are visible they all seem to gasp at their arrival before the whispering starts.

"Did someone travel through the cursed forest?"

"Who are they? Perhaps monsters themselves?"

"That one has white hair."

The mumbles grow louder and as Geralt takes a step forward, they all seem to shush. Out from one of the houses is an older man, using a stick as a walking cane, the village elder he supposes.

————————————————————

He sits beside Geralt as a woman pours them tea while the village elder explains the situation. Apparently, the creature, the Varga, has been living in the forest for centuries, cutting off most of the pathways to other cities.

Which is untrue. Seeing as he and Geralt have just come through a pathway. But that's just it, the villagers just assumed the Varga was evil and refused to get near it, instead opting to go on longer, more time-consuming paths to their destinations.

He'd call them shallow if he hadn't just been terrified of the Varga himself.

"Won't you please slay our monster?" The elder practically begs, and Geralt's eyebrows twitch.

"I will not. The Varga means you no harm."

He was surprised, honestly, he had figured a monster was a monster to Geralt but...he supposes that of course, that's not true. He just hadn't really thought about it before.

"I will show you it means no harm, but I will not slay it."

The elder swallows, hard, looking at Geralt as if he had a hard time believing him. He probably does.

————————————————————

The sun starts to go down as he sits on a rock, Roach beside him nibbling on grass. She doesn't seem to mind the constant change of environment.

Geralt takes yet another group of villagers through the pathway, gesturing some to the white hair before speaking. Seeming to attempt to reassure the villagers that the monster simply cared for its luxurious hair and not of human flesh.

The villagers took hours to grasp the concept. Perhaps because Geralt didn't speak as he should have. Perhaps because when they asked a question Geralt answered in hums. Perhaps because they found it hard to believe a Witcher.

It's all up to debate.

All he knows for sure is that they'd been offered a free room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to mention that the Varga isn’t actually part of the Witcher’s universe or anything. It’s a combination of a few creatures of folklore that I enjoy. I do that quite often as you’ll come to see...<3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I’m alive <3 
> 
> I’m so sorry this has taken so long to update! I hope you enjoy this chapter <3
> 
> I wanted to get this chapter out ASAP, so it’s not entirely typo checked yet, but I’m working on it as we speak!

The room had a single bed and he lounged in it. Trying his best to convince himself that this was normal. Normal people didn't have panic attacks from sleeping alone.

But he did.

Not that it's very important when Geralt is brooding in a corner, sharpening his blades with a stone of sorts. Geralt says nothing but his scent is heavy and bitter with something like regret.

He tried his best to ignore the scent and go to sleep but the longer he ignored it the stronger it became and at some point his stomach had done an entire flip. Stomach acid burned his throat and he had to cover his mouth for a moment, ensuring the contents would stay inside.

"Geralt," he calls after he's sure he won't throw up. Geralt simply hums as he removes his armor, setting them in a corner so he can be more flexible and sharpen his swords faster. "You can sleep with me tonight, I don't mind."

_The bed is big enough for two_

Geralt says nothing.

"Is something wrong?"

Geralt takes the stone to the sword again, a hard click echoes around him before he sighs. He picks up the blade and sits it beside his amour. "I've most likely committed second-hand murder."

His heart drops, just hearing the sudden hard tone of Geralt's voice. The sudden look of conflict that settles on the alpha's face. It's all...so saddening.

"What do you mean? You've shown the villagers that not all monsters are bad-"

"No, I've shown them that some monsters are vulnerable. I have no doubt the humans with burn the Varga."

Geralt sits on the side of the bed, hand on his thigh, a deep breath leaving him. "That's awful," Jaskier sits up, placing a hand on Geralt's arm, rubbing softly. "The actions of others are not your own. What these villagers do will not make you a worse man. You can't even be sure the villagers will perform such atrocities."

Geralt hums once more.

He sighs and scoots over, patting the space beside him. Geralt settles into the space, his scent is more manageable now.

"I thought you slayed monsters? Not murder them."

Geralt hums turning to his side so they could be face to face. "When humans do it, it's murder."

He placed a hand on Geralt's arm, rubbing as he closes his own eyes. "How awful," he mutters, more to himself than Geralt.

Geralt sighs and places a hand on his arm in return, rubbing along softly.

...

In the morning he rolls over, finding a cold spot where Geralt had once laid. He simply stared up at the ceiling for a while, rubbing his hands occasionally around the cold mattress, hay stabs his prodding hands but he doesn't mind the pain. 

"Oh, Jaskier," he sighs to himself, wondering how exactly he got in this spot. From auction to auction, from abuser to abuser, alphas. Never has he known alphas who weren't pieces of shit.

They know they have a high status in society and they use it against him.

Then there's Geralt. An alpha but his dynamic hasn't changed anyone's opinion of him. He isn't the top the food chain, if anything his status has made him an even bigger monster in the people's eyes.

If Geralt wasn't an alpha...would he have had a better life? 

A few birds chirp outside, telling him to get out of bed and he would be inclined to ignore them, if he wasn't on edge. He's alone, he's tense, he can practically smell the surroundings alphas. That's all the air ever smelled like. 

Omegas were a rarity, kept inside, where only their masters could smell their scents. So the outside world was always full of alpha musk and beta's whose scents were always watered down beneath the alphas.

...

He finds Geralt outside, brushing Roach, whispering to her. She doesn't seem to be listening as she's currently nibbling on the grass. 

He wonders what Geralt is saying, for his posture exudes relaxation, comfort.

Geralt tilts his head in Jaskier's direction, a light glint to his golden gaze. "Have you ever gone on a treasure hunt?" Geralt inquires, flicking the brown and slightly stained treasure map in Roach's pouch.

"Never have I ever," he says, smiling, and Geralt hums.

...

Roach doesn't appreciate their weight. She whines and sometimes seems to throw gazes back at them while Geralt ignores her. Instead, showing Jaskier the map, in which an X is cruelly drawn out in an arid plain, an approximate two-day ride.

"We should invest in a horse for you." 

He leans back and closes his eyes.

"Yes...more debt I'll have to pay back, I'm thrilled."

Geralt rolls the map back up, slips it away into Roach's bag, before leaning down into Jaskier's space. Silent, still, but he's more than likely sniffing him without even making an effort. "I was joking," Geralt deadpans to him, and Jaskier can practically feel his eyebrows furrowing. “You don’t have to pay me back.”

"Oh...really?"

Geralt hums.

...

"Sometimes I think I might have hated my mom," Jaskier says, making conversation to stop the ringing of silence. "Every time I think of her my heart gets all heavy and sometimes I struggle to breathe."

"Do you miss your memories?"

"How would I know?"

Geralt hums, pulling on the reins, changing direction. "Hey, this is the wrong way."

Geralt ignores him, taking Roach back through the forest, and soon enough the sound of water rushing reaches his ears. "Life is beautiful," Geralt says, walking them underneath a bird's nest, and pass a few rabbits who peer up at them. "Whether they were good or bad memories, they made you who you are."

"But-"

Geralt cuts him off with a hum, as they break into a forest clearing, a waterfall stretches over a lake, pouring clear blue water. Flowers are scattered along the green shore, blue and pink- Roach wanders over to one and takes a big bite out of it.

Ouch.

Geralt gets off and helps Jaskier down.

"Let us stop here," Geralt says, like it's nothing, picking up a pink flower before twirling it around his fingers.

"But-"

Geralt hands him the flower with a small smile before turning around and walking to the water. He looks down at it before removing his amour, one piece at a time. 

They've only made about a half a day's journey. They'll run behind if they stay here! Geralt doesn't seem to care as he disrobes and dives into the water, although he wasn't even dirty.

"Geralt!" He calls as he stares into the water. It's crystal clear, and he can see Geralt's shadow as he goes from one end to the other.

Is this...recreational bathing? Like bathing just for fun? Or is this that thing nobles called swimming?

Geralt is completely naked-not that Jaskier is looking, but when Geralt pops out of the water and small droplets trace Geralt's chest- he thinks for once he's actually blessed by the sight of a potential mate, and not the disgusting body of a know it all alpha.

"Are you getting in?" Geralt asks as he leans back and floats along the water's surface.

He turns away and blushes. "Yes Geralt, of course." He almost stutters and his fingertips shake upon his buttons. Luckily, he has enough coordination to get out of his clothes.

He doesn't just dive in like Geralt, he takes one step at a time, and the freezing but relieving water is traveling up and up. Causing his stomach to flip and a small hiss to come out of his mouth. "Cold," he shivers- who's he talking to? Where did Geralt go?

Hands are on his sides before he knows it and he's pulled underneath the water for a split second. When he pops out he pounds on Geralt's chest with shaking hands. "I thought I was about to die," He scolds Geralt who looks quite happy with himself. "What kind of gentleman are you?"

The water splashes around them and he smiles, so stupidly. "Oh, Geralt," he finally sighs, draping his hands around Geralt's neck. 

Geralt leans in, sniffing at his neck, and it doesn't feel terrifying anymore. Not like the first time, not like when he thought Geralt was sizing him up, no. It feels like...Geralt is just attracted to his scent, in a healthy manner.

It makes him want to produce happier scents, like relief and comfort, because he wants this potential mate to like his scent, to fall heads over heels with it. Because gods know Jaskier has already fallen for Geralt's scent.

Geralt hums, bringing Jaskier closer with a hand on his hips, and when he lands on his lap, he feels something hard proding him. It sents shivers up his spine, good ones, and Geralt starts to smell of arousal.

"Geralt," he whispers, leaning in, watching Geralt's lips as he gets closer and closer. Geralt purrs, just faintly he can hear it but, it's everything.

Their lips lock and it's so soft and perfect and- so very different from all those other times another had touched his lips. Those were with fire and lust and this, this is just soft and only fueled by mutual affection, right?

He leans back and something feels off. Maybe it's the wind that comes through, sobering him up, but he just doesn't feel right. It has to be that he willingly did it. That...he for once actually did it on his own.

He's...he's never felt this way before and...it's scary. His heartbeats heavily in his chest, ringing in his ears.

Geralt goes tense, tilting his head like a confused dog. "What?" Geralt says, a little hoarse, his arousal dies.

"I...I'm sorry," he stands up, looks away with guilt. He's so sorry, he is. For leading Geralt on, for giving him signs of affection and love when he's not willing to follow through. He's...he's such a terrible omega, isn't he? He's supposed to...he's supposed to help alpha's with their arousal...but he just doesn't feel comfortable with that.

He's never liked that.

"Stop," Geralt says, standing, tapping on his forehead lightly. "Whatever you're thinking is wrong. It always is when you make that face."

He blushes, grabbing his cheeks before turning away. Was he making a strange face?

"I require nothing of you," Geralt assures before diving back into the water.

He trudges through the lake before getting to the shore. He sits beside Roach and she nudges his cheeks. "Yeah, I know," he says, rubbing his head. "I'm in deep aren't I?"

Roach says nothing, but he's sure it's just because she's in a bad mood. He picks a flower and lets her eat it out of his hand.

He wasn't supposed to be weak. He wasn't supposed to let an alpha in, an alpha that will surely turn into a monster the second he drops his defense- no.

Geralt is different.

He must be.

This can't...this can't all just be some trick...his heart couldn't take it.

...

He lays out the furs and builds a small circle of rocks to contain an eventual fire. He was already dressed and attempting to set up a campsite, although he wasn't the best at it. He found a few sticks which he throws in the circle of rocks, but he honestly isn't skilled enough to even attempt to start a fire.

The water splashes as Geralt gets out. He briefly shakes his head as he attempts to redress in clothes. "I'll get dinner," Geralt said, as he grabbed a single blade before walking into the forest, without even his armor, which is dangerous.

Although he's sure Geralt would probably be able to smell, or hear, or just feel if there was a monster out there, so he tried not to worry. 

...

Rabbit is delicious.

Geralt says nothing about the kiss.

He says nothing about the kiss.

It’s all left unsaid.

...

Geralt sleeps curled up to him, still, spooning him as he noses at his neck. “Do you like my scent?” He asks, leaning his neck so Geralt could get a better sniff.

“It’s...comforting...and much different from anyone I’ve ever smelled.”

His eyes drift closed as Geralt pulls him tighter before something seems to register to Geralt and he stops. “Does this bother you?” Geralt asks simply, his voice off by a hair.

“No,” he sighs, tirednes overcoming him. 

Geralt makes him feel safe but also uncertain. Like he can never be sure if what he’s doing is right. Is he allowed to let himself love? Is he allowed to get comfortable with an alpha?

He wonders.

All he knows for certain is that Geralt is a good man, Alpha, and he is happy to have been his for even a mere few days.

Geralt humming into his neck is the last thing he hears before he drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and support! It means a lot to me that so many of you enjoy this fic!
> 
> Sorry this is sort of a angsty chapter but we had to go over this bridge sooner or later.

He kissed Geralt.

He really pushed his lips against the alpha. He really just...took. He really just...did it. Without even asking, without even considering what the alpha might think but well, he supposed that it was probably in the air. That scent of arousal Geralt had was just...intoxicating.

Not intoxicatingly disgustingly like alpha's musky arousal usually was. It was a good kind of intoxicating, the kind he just wanted to get lost in, knees weak and all that omega stuff he tried to avoid.

But...he couldn't let himself get into it.

He couldn't become a toy, he couldn't give himself over to lust and be this Alpha's thing. He refuses to be an object and Geralt is yet to treat him like one.

It's shocking, sure, but that's just it. It's so shocking that he has doubts about Geralt's good intentions.

"We've better get a move on if you want to find that treasure," he yawned, sitting upright with the sunlight bearing down on him. Morning is here, too soon, birds Chirp and Geralt opens one eye as he peers up at Jaskier.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asks, and it makes him stutter, his heart he means. It just hiccups in his chest and he's sure for a moment it wasn't pumping. How does Geralt always know?

"I...Geralt I think you're nice and I'm really glad to have been...saved by you- I really am but...you've got to tell me why you bought me. Please, I don't care if it isn't...nice. I have to know."

He has to know before he falls for Geralt even more. He has to know before he is consumed with the need.

Geralt is silent, eyes narrowed, body now rigid as he sits up, his hair splaying messily. "Are you okay?"

"Stop it-" Stop deflecting he wants to say, he means to say, but at that last moment his words get caught up in his throat. He deserves to know the truth.

If Geralt got him to be a play toy. If Geralt was only being kind to him to get him to lower his Guard.

"Please Geralt," he begs and he knows he smells bad, with all the nervousness he's feeling he must. "I need to know."

Geralt stared until he finally shifted his gaze to Roach who is gazing the ground nearby. "I fear you might think less of me," Geralt said, softly, like the man usually was incapable of.

"I...I won't."

"I got a job a few months back from a distressed mother who had recently lost a son. Everyone I asked about it said he probably ran away but she wouldn't let it go. She is a viscount, close to royalty, and well, I couldn't pass up the reward for her son's return."

He's listening.

He is.

At least, he thinks he was but his head is spinning and he's sure he can't breathe. "You don't mean...me do you? It can't me."

He can't be a viscount.

"Yes, you. I was shown a picture, I knew you were omega, but all that wasn't enough to determine it. It was your smell, all you viscounts have strong sweet smells, greater than any peasant omega could ever hope for."

"Why haven't you taken me back yet?"

Geralt stood and pulled a brush out of roach's bag. He begins brushing Roach.

"Your mother would have been a nutcase, had I brought you back to her in your original state."

"So what?" He hissed, coming to stand as well, piercing pain in his heart. "Were you only nice to me so that you could get a better reward? Is that all this has been? Just a job to you?"

Geralt said nothing, brushing across Roach's side in silence.

"Geralt...I can't believe you. I thought...I thought," he looks away, heart practically crumpling in his chest as he stomps away in the forest, alone. He...he doesn't know what he's doing or where he's going but he knows he's hurt.

He thought Geralt was different. He thought that maybe Geralt cared about him but Geralt was just using him like everyone else in his life does.

Fucking alphas.

He hates them all.

He runs until he trips over a branch, rolls his ankle, and proceeds to dig his nails into the dirt and cry until muddy piles forms just below him. He kissed Geralt, that alpha who's just using him too.

He kissed him.

And Geralt kissed him back.

He doesn't know what to do anymore.

He lays down against the dirt, mud running up his cheeks, and his ankle aches.

...

"Are you still sulking?" Geralt asks him as he lays in the dirt with a frown on his lips. He wishes Geralt would just abandon him, but if Geralt did that he wouldn't get paid, would he?

"Leave me to die."

Geralt crosses his arms unenthusiastically. "You do realize I'm bringing you back to your family, don't you? I don't think this is something to be mellow about."

He crosses his arms too, mirroring Geralt, before rolling over and ignoring the alpha. "I don't need to listen to this."

"Jaskier please- I think your ankle is swollen," Geralt bends down beside him, balancing on the balls of his feet.

"It doesn't even hurt."

Geralt pokes his ankle.

He cries out in pain and turns around and slaps Geralt's chest. "That was mean!"

Geralt simply smiles at him, poking him again, maintaining eye contact as he does. "Geralt!" He hisses, pushing Geralt over, holding the alpha down as he bears his teeth like fangs. "Stop it."

"Make me."

He stares down at Geralt, for a moment, just once before he bursts out in laughter and buries his nose in Geralt's neck. "I hate you," he said, sniffing, and somehow he thinks Geralt might smell like home, so comforting for some strange reason.

"Oh? Is that new?" 

He said nothing, closing his eyes as he inhales. 

"Jaskier?"

"Sorry," he mumbled against Geralt and he received a hum- no- purring and he practically melted against Geralt.


End file.
